


The Loneliest Job in the World

by zombiesbecrazy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Damian is also trying, Dick Grayson is Batman, Gen, He is trying his best, Training Robins is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesbecrazy/pseuds/zombiesbecrazy
Summary: Dick continued to swing, release, flip and catch, increasing the difficulty and combinations as he felt his body tire and become sloppy over time. He's exhausted, frustrated and angry and doesn't know what to do next when Damian ignores his instructions yet again.





	The Loneliest Job in the World

**Author's Note:**

> For Dick and Damian Week 2019 - Day 4 - Training

“Please use the grips, Master Dick.” Alfred’s voice was faint, but firm in tone from his position in the doorway that led into the gym. “I’m retiring for the evening and I don’t want to have to try to mend mangled hands in the morning if at all avoidable.” Dick didn’t turn or respond directly but he did pick up his grips and waved them in Alfred’s general direction before setting on strapping them to his hands. He pulled the velcro a little tighter than he typically did before he wrapped the tape and mounted the horizontal bar, warming up with a few swings.

He had been out all night. The warm up was for the bar, not for him. He was more than ready to let loose.

He almost could hear Alfred rolling his eyes as he started his routine, just as he did any time Dick’s first release move was a Kolman. It wasn’t a difficult skill for him by any means but it was his tell when he was working out on the bar. It was his ‘I’m pissed off and leave me alone’ signature move since as long as he could remember because something about it just felt so... angry. He couldn’t describe it well; the way that the bar slapped against his hands as he made the catch just made his hands feel the way the rest of him felt. It didn’t feel good, but it matched his mental state.

Out of his peripherals he could see Damian and Alfred watching from the door, but he continued to ignore them as best he could as he swung on the bar a few more times. He cast himself into a long handstand, the pressure growing against his shoulders in a familiar way, and he could hear Alfred attempting to usher Damian from the room. “Master Damian, I would suggest that you leave Master Dick alone for the time being.”

“He appears to be punishing that high bar,” observed the young voice quietly in response.  Dick swung around a few more times, and threw in some Healey turns while he thought about what he wanted to do next. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to get down yet. Probably not for a while. Damn straight he was punishing the high bar. It was better than the only other alternative he could think of right now.

“Indeed,” sighed Alfred, making Dick aware that he wasn’t the only one frustrated with another person’s actions tonight and he was pretty sure that he’d get an earful about it from Alfred at some point. It took a lot to make Alfred audibly sigh in that particular tone and most of the time Dick had heard it directed at Bruce, not him. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to care at the moment. “However it is perhaps better that he is directing his grievances on it rather than expressing it in other fashions until he cools down. Come along now.” Alfred had witnessed more than enough of Dick’s high bar routines in his teenage years to know when it was time to just let him stew and when to intervene. Dick kept his focus on his workout but heard two sets of footsteps retreat out of the room, Alfred evidently successful in his extraction.

Dick continued to swing, release, flip and catch, increasing the difficulty and combinations as he felt his body tire and become sloppy over time. He wasn’t sure how long he was up there, alone and brooding, before his fingers finally didn’t have the strength left in them for a catch and he fell into the foam pit below. He laid there for a few minutes, staring up at the bar and trying to decide if he wanted to go back up there. He was still angry, furious even, but felt less like there was going to be a volcano erupt out of him, so he supposed that was something and the ache in his fingers convinced him that his hands couldn’t take any more abuse tonight even if he were to try again. He sank down into the landing pit further. He normally liked the pit, but didn’t help with the drowning feeling that he had been struggling with and trying to push down for the past months. Every time he thought he was on a roll and finally getting on top of everything, something dragged him back down, whether it be Batman, family, Wayne Enterprises or the League related. He was debating just changing his name to Sisyphus because it would just be more on brand.

Making his decision, he slowly pulled himself back to his feet and climbed out, done for the night. He had a quick shower and then rode the elevator up to the penthouse to have some food before hitting the sack, knowing from experience that he’d be thinking a little more calmly with some sleep. When the doors opened up in the penthouse, it was mostly dark, signalling that Alfred had gone to bed, but the light was on in the kitchen for him so Dick toed his shoes off and walked quietly through the living room.

“Are your hands alright?”

Dick jumped and had to bite back a surprised yelp, because Batman being surprised in his own living room is just embarrassing. He hadn’t noticed Damian laying on the couch and had walked right past him without a second glance. Dick was feeling better than before after his time on the high bar, but didn’t really want to deal with him at the moment. Why wasn’t the kid in bed? Dick held up his palms in his direction in response to the question. Even with the grips they were red, but no tears in the skin. Damian nodded  and sat up. “Good. Pennyworth was concerned.”

Dick ignored him and continued into the kitchen and started rooting around in the fridge, pulling out the plate the Alfred had left for him, along with a carton of milk. He poured it into a glass while he waited for his food to heat up in the microwave and picked up an apple from the bowl and bit into it. He was hungry but he wasn’t at the point where he couldn’t wait ninety seconds for food; he just wanted something in his mouth so he could avoid talking to Damian, who had followed him in and was watching him like a hawk from a safe distance.

He chewed extremely slowly, partly because he didn’t want to talk but mostly because he knew it would drive Damian crazy.

The microwave beeped and Dick took his plate and sat down at the counter. He ate for moment in silence until Damian reached his inevitable breaking point and spoke up. “You are angry with me.”

“Yep.” Dick didn’t look up from the plate as he scooped up some couscous. It was better when it was fresh, but reheated it was still good.

“Do you not wish to punish me?”

Bite. Chew. Shallow. “I do.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

The fork dropped onto the plate and made a loud clang against the china. “Because even after venting my frustrations out on that bar, all I really want to do is scream at you.” Dick paused, shocked by his own words and how cold they sounded. He hadn’t actually meant to say it. It was true, but saying it out loud meant that he was even more tired than he realised. “But I can’t do that because that would be pointless and I have to be a damn adult and screaming at a ten year old is a dick move.” He gestured to the seat across from him, inviting Damian to join him because since the conversation had started, they might as well have it out and the kid might as well be sitting and not hovering. He picked up his fork again and went back to his meal. “Pun intended.”

“You can. Scream, if you wish. If it would make you feel better.” Any other kid would be looking away, but Damian was forcing himself to remain calm, staring directly into Dick’s eyes, challenging him to make true on his words. It was like Talia was staring at him and Dick made himself search out for Bruce’s features in his face because he was better at dealing with Bruce than Talia a thousand times over. The eyebrows. Those were Bruce’s. Focus on them. Damian huffed and then said “I made an error in judgement.”

Dick had been mid swallow and almost choked at Damian’s words. “An error in judgement? Is that what you think happened? Do you even know why I’m mad?”

“I admit that I was supposed to come back here when you sent me home for the night, but I stopped the human trafficking transaction we were going to do a day early. It was the right call.” Damian sat back in the chair and crossed his arms stubbornly. “You should thank me instead of being mad. Unless you are mad at your own failure.”

“I should _thank_ you? Are you serious right now?” Dick laughed, but it was dark and bordering on super villain territory, and it sounded wrong to his own ears so he knows that nothing about it can sound good to Damian. “It wasn’t the right call. Not by a long shot.” Damian started to argue and Dick shook his head and cut him off, slashing his hand through the air. “No. What you did was directly disobey my order to go back to the bunker and by doing so actually ruined our chances to break up a human trafficking ring. You did the exact opposite of help.”

“But I stopped them. I interrupted them during a gambling game and stopped the transaction before it could even happen. The GCPD has them in custody.”

Dick stared at Damian for a few long moments in silence. It was unbelievable that Damian thought that was the right thing to do unless… “You didn’t read the prep work, did you?” Now Damian did cast his eyes down at the counter, jaw tightening and tips of his ears growing red, his answer obvious. Dick gritted his teeth. He had asked Damian to read the information four different times and he had been assured that it was done. “You didn’t stop anything. They were the receiving end.”

They sat in silence, seconds ticking by and strain heavy in the air. “I don’t understand,” Damian mumbled finally and something in Dick’s brain slowed to a halt.

All the tension and bluster drained out of him with those three words.

Damian admitted that he didn’t know something. Had he ever done that before? Not that Dick was aware of anyway. Damian talked around what he didn’t know, bolstering up what his strengths were to make up for his gaps in knowledge. He never let it slip that he wasn’t the omnipotent being that Talia and R’as had tried to convince him that he was or could be over time.

He was a ten year old kid who wanted Dick to punish him or scream at him because he still thought that was how things worked. How things must have always worked for him.

That was messed up and Dick had to redirect it, but he was just so worn out. From tonight and from, well, everything really. He needed to pick his battles and this wasn’t one of them for tonight. This was more of a Tomorrow Dick problem. Hopefully Tomorrow Dick would have his life together better to deal with this. He had to say something though, let him know what the problem was with what Damian had done.

“They were the buyers, Damian. The sellers weren’t coming into town until tomorrow night. They still have the people and now they are just going to sell them to someone else and we have no idea where or to who. Probably not even to someone in Gotham. Those people we were going to save? They are just gone.” Dick knew his words were harsh, but he tried to control how they came out. Trying to force patience and teaching. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

“Oh.” Judging by how Damian looked down at the counter, body ridged and the back of his neck turning pink in embarrassment, Dick was pretty sure that he failed in his attempt to turn this around.

“Exactly. Oh.” He rubbed his itching eyes, another reminder that he was stretched far beyond his limits and needed to turn in before he fell asleep in the kitchen. Four o’clock in the morning was too late for this. For either of them. He had already contacted Donna to track them down at their location in New York, but the traffickers were already gone. “You made a mistake. I can understand and accept that because we all make mistakes but it’s just a symptom of the disease in this partnership that we are trying to build. I understand making a judgement call and going off the plan, probably better than most. I really do. But you didn’t even call me to let me know first and I don’t know how to make you listen. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve been trying, but honestly?” Dick shook his head, about to spill the words that he’s been feeling since he put on the cowl and since Damian had started. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what I can do to be a better teacher to you. Batman to you.” He stood up, trying to ignoring the creaking in his knees and loaded his dishes into the dishwasher before tilting his head to the doorway back into the living room. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed. You should do the same. We can talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

Damian nodded, but didn’t move from his seat as Dick left the room.

* * *

The next morning Dick had to admit that after a solid chunk of sleep he was in a much better mindset than he had been the night before. He was still irritated at the entire situation, but the more he thought about it, he had seen where he had been making his own mistakes. It wasn’t just a problem with Damian not listening and going off on his own, but the root of the issue was really something that he had been messing up from the beginning since they had started their arrangement. Something that he had been forgetting in Damian’s training. Dick slapped his hand to his face with just enough force that he was probably going to leave his own handprint on the skin, because he was an idiot at the core to have missed it. He had forgotten about the main thing that made Batman different from all the other vigilantes, powers or not. What made Batman _Batman_.

The penthouse was quiet when he left his room and there was a note from Alfred saying that he had lunch prepared in the Bunker so he headed for the elevator. When the doors opened at the bottom of the trip, Dick immediately saw Alfred sitting at the table in the center of the room, drinking a cup of tea with a full spread of untouched lunch out in front of him. Dick opened his mouth to greet him, but Alfred nodded towards the command station before the words could leave his mouth, drawing his attention away.

Damian was sitting in front of the computer, curled up in a small ball in the overly large chair, same hooded sweatshirt and pants as the night before. He was writing furiously on a pad of paper beside him and there were countless windows pulled up on the screens. “I went over all of your notes several times and was able to deduce that the sellers are probably going to attempt to make a new exchange in Metropolis. I contacted Superman. He is going to try and find them for us. He said he’ll let us know what he finds by four.”

“You did all this?”

“Some. Pennyworth assisted when he arrived this morning. I made a lot more progress with his tutelage. I would not have been able to make the connection without him and I did not have my own way to contact Superman.” Damian was still writing his notes, but Dick looked to Alfred who nodded in confirmation. He didn’t know why there was ever any argument about whether he or Tim was the ‘second greatest detective’ because amongst them they all knew that it was Alfred. A silent conversation passed between their eyes, and when Dick finally nodded in response to Alfred’s unspoken request, Alfred stood and walked to the opposite end of the bunker, popped the hood of one of the cars and disappeared from view, with all that was remaining of his presence in the room was the sound of metal tinkering on metal. “I’m aware that it might be a dead end, but it is the best that I could do,” mumbled Damian.

Dragging a chair from the table, Dick sat down beside him, watching for a few minutes as he continued to take notes from what he was reading on the screen. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“I needed to try and fix my error.” The answer in his non answer was clear. Damian finally dropped his pencil and rubbed his eyes, before covering his mouth to hide a yawn. “If it is alright, I’ll eat and take a nap before I come down for training later this afternoon.” Dick nodded. Damian bit his lip before continuing. “I assume that I’m benched.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m still thinking about it.” Damian raised an eyebrow slightly, the only indication of surprise because Dick had pulled him from patrol for far less in the past. “Why did you do it? Go off fighting on your own instead of just calling it a night like I asked? I thought we were passed that; the not communicating and running off thing. I thought we were on the same page.”

“We are, usually. I was passing by on my way home and they were simply there. I knew we were taking them down the next night and…” Damian paused, and tapped his fingers on the desk a few times. “You were busy with the Commissioner and I didn’t need assistance. I thought I was helping.”

Dick couldn’t help but grin at the words. It was a testament to how far Damian had come, hearing those words. He had made a mistake, a big one, but only because he was trying to help. “I know you did, kiddo, and I want to thank you for tracking them to Metropolis. It looks like it was a good lead and you put a lot of work into it. You did a good job.” There were a few moments of awkward silence. Dick wanted to hug him, but knew that it wasn’t the moment; that Damian would bristle and pull back, still feeling like he needed to be chastised. “You know I’m not really mad at you.” Damian clicked his tongue and Dick amended what he said. “Well, I am, but I guess I’m madder at myself.”

“Why? I did make a series of mistakes that could have dire consequences.”

“You aren’t going to like the answer.”

“That has never stopped you.”

“That’s true.” Dick tried to find the best words to phrase what he was thinking, but couldn’t find a better diplomatic way to say it and decided to charge ahead and fumble through. “It’s because sometimes that I forget you aren’t Tim.” Damian’s eyes widened, hurt expression like he had been slapped; worse even. Taking his hand and squeezing it, Dick gave him a small smile, attempting to be reassuring. “Or that you are ten and still pretty new at this. You have been very well trained for combat and survival, but sometimes I forget that you don’t have the experience on the detective side of this yet.” Damian’s brow furrowed at that, but Dick shook his head. “That’s on me, not you, and I’m sorry. I’m mad that I haven’t trained you better in the skills that you aren’t quite as strong at yet. I forgot what a ten year old Robin is like sometimes and it was very different before, because the last ten year old Robin was me and I wasn’t the one who had to worry about it then.”

“If you would prefer to work with Drake…” Damian trailed off and looked away, over to where their uniforms were kept, and paused. “I know you didn’t ask to be my teacher. You just,” he swallowed thickly, “got stuck with me.”

“That is what you took from what I said?” Why did people think he was great at talking to people when he continued to mess things up with Damian like this? Dick spun Damian’s chair and lifted his chin carefully so that he was forced to look at him again. “I’m not stuck with you. I chose you. I just meant that Bruce had made sure that both Jason and Tim worked on their detective skills first before they were allowed out in the field. Tim especially. He spent months in the Cave before he was allowed to go out as Robin. You didn’t go straight to battle the first time you held a sword, right?” Damian shook his head minutely and Dick nodded. “Detective skills are the same. They need to be developed and honed. Just because you came combat ready, I knew that you’d be able to protect yourself in the field and because of it I’ve neglected that part of your training. You didn’t do what I asked, but if I had been training you better, you would have thought to realise why we couldn’t take them out last night.”

"I agree to your suggestion. More training will only help me improve," said Damian. “What about you? When you were my age? Did you do a lot of training before being at Batman's side?”

“Things were different then. Simpler. Gotham was still Gotham, but retrospectively it seemed less Gothamy. I think that if I were Robin now, Bruce would have done the same with me. More training before action.” Most of Dick’s early days as Robin had been more geared towards community service and acting as look out rather than actual crime fighting, but he had faced more than his fair share of discord in the streets. “Most dangerous person I fought when I was ten was Condiment King.”

“Who?”

“Exactly,” laughed Dick. “So, we’re going to start again with the detective basics and work from there because not everything can be solved with a swing of your sword or a well place punch to the solar plexus. Examining the evidence. Following a paper trail.” He remembered some of the games that Bruce used to play with him; scavenger hunts in the Cave to find hidden objects and puzzles to decipher. He’d have to adapt them for Damian to make it seem less childlike and more mission related but it was a good place to start. Dick wondered if there would be anything helpful in Bruce’s files from training Tim that would work because those exercises would have been designed more seriously and realistic than his and Jason’s had been. Dick was about to start discussing it with Damian when he caught him trying to hide another yawn. “But first, you need some sleep. When you wake up, I’ll have a better plan about how we’re going to turn you into the best Robin you can be.”

“Not the best Robin overall?”

“There is no best Robin. We’re all the best.”

“If you say so, Richard,” said Damian before smiling shyly. “We are though. You and I. We’re the best.” Now Dick did cave in to that urge to hug him and surprisingly was met with little resistance and he could swear that he felt Damian relax into it, just a bit.

“Not yet, but we can be with a little work. Maybe someday.”


End file.
